Lenchen: Princess Christian; Queen Victoria’s third daughter.
Thora: Lenchen’s daughter
By 1893, the Empress Frederick had completed her work on the Friedrichshof and settled comfortably into her new home with her youngest daughter, Mossy. Between riding, reading and writing interminable letters, she devoted much of her time to philanthropic activities. In Krönberg, she founded and regularly visited a hospital, built alms-houses and established a school, but her chief concern, as ever, was her family. Reluctant as she was to part with her youngest child, whom she referred to as ‘my Benjamin[·]’, it was time to find an appropriate husband for Mossy.
Already several suitors had been suggested, among them the young Tsarevich Nicholas, but he, in love with Mossy’s cousin, Alix of Hesse, declared he would rather become a monk than marry the Prussian princess. Mossy, moreover, had no intention of converting to Orthodoxy, as was required of a future Tsarina.
In 1891, Queen Victoria proposed a more suitable candidate: Mossy’s cousin, Eddy, Prince Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and Avondale. As the eldest son of the Prince of Wales, Eddy was second-in-line to the throne, and Queen Victoria had little doubt that princesses would be queuing up to ascend to ‘the highest position there is.’ It came as a shock to discover that she had overestimated her beloved Eddy’s attraction.
In truth, though his mother and sisters adored him, none of his cousins was drawn to the young prince. A very poor scholar, listless and lethargic, he was so dependent upon his younger brother that even when he spent a brief stint in the navy, George was sent with him. In fact, much of his supposed lack of intelligence was undoubtedly due to the deafness which he had inherited from his mother, but in his lifetime, and still more since his death, many false rumours were spread about his lack of interest in affairs of state and his relentless pursuit of pleasure.
The fact that one of his associates was involved in the Cleveland Street scandal[·], led to speculation that the prince was bisexual, and by the late 1880s, it was said that he had contracted syphilis. There is little evidence to substantiate the rumours and, even if they were true, the stories must have escaped the Queen’s notice or she would not have been so keen to promote a match between Eddy and one of her favourite granddaughters.
In spite of the Prince Consort’s warnings of the need to bring new dark blood into the family, Queen Victoria favoured marriage between first cousins. After all, she and Albert had been cousins and, since their progeny crowded the courts of Europe, there were few available royalties who were not somehow related. Of all Eddy’s cousins none seemed, in Queen Victoria’s eyes, better suited to the role of future Queen Consort than the intelligent and devout Princess Alix of Hesse.
Since her mother’s death, Alix had spent a good deal of time at the English court and held a particularly high place in her grandmother’s affection. Her Hessian good looks were sure to appeal to the sensuous Eddy and, more to the point, in the Queen’s view, betrothal to her cousin would distract her from the handsome Tsarevich, to whom she had lost her heart while visiting her sister, Ella, in Russia.
For Ella, who was busily promoting that match, the idea that Alix should marry the hapless Eddy was ‘absolutely ridiculous.’ Apart from his physical frailty, he was ‘quite stupid’ in Ella’s opinion and, though his genuine kindness had its appeal, he held no real attraction for Alix. For several months under sustained pressure from both families, Alix wavered until at last, she gently refused his proposal.
It was not the first time that one of her Hessian granddaughters had thwarted the Queen’s plans for a family wedding but she resigned herself to the outcome and wasted little time with regrets. There were other granddaughters of the right age and temperament: Mossy of Prussia, for instance.
Unlike Cousin Alix, Mossy was not, in her grandmother’s opinion, ‘regularly pretty’ but she had ‘a pretty figure’ and a great love for England.
The prospect of her daughter happily settled in her own childhood home delighted Vicky and when she received a letter from Mossy’s sister, Sophie, praising Eddy’s gentle kindness, she needed no further assurance. In February 1891, Mossy accompanied her mother to Paris where French journalists wrote several complimentary descriptions of the svelte, blonde, Prussian princess. From France they journeyed to England for a holiday at Sandringham in the hope that Mossy and Eddy might fall in love.
The plan was doomed to fail. By then Eddy had become infatuated with the daughter of the deposed French Emperor, Hélène of Orleans, and Mossy was in the throes of an unrequited passion for a German cousin, Max of Baden. It soon became apparent there was even less chance of pairing Eddy with Mossy than there had been with Alix of Hesse.
It was probably just as well. The Princess of Wales would never have approved of a Prussian daughter-in-law and much preferred the Catholic Hélène, whom Eddy was meeting regularly at the home of his sister, Louise. Eventually, at his mother’s prompting, he even went so far as to propose to the French princess before rushing her off to the Queen to announce their engagement. Touched as she was by the romance, Queen Victoria was powerless to intervene. The law prevented the heir to the throne from marrying a Catholic and even when Hélène offered to seek a papal dispensation to convert to Anglicanism, ministers pointed out that it would be impossible to receive the deposed Emperor’s daughter without damaging England’s relationship with Republican France. Eddy resigned himself to the inevitable and within a year had proposed to, and been accepted by, his childhood friend, Princess May of Teck.
Queen Victoria was satisfied with the outcome and considered May sensible, pretty and reliable but not everyone in the family shared her delight. Vicky considered her ‘rather stiff’ and lacking in charm, while Eddy’s sisters mocked her dullness. The jealously protective Princess of Wales, while conceding that May would make a reliable wife, was reluctant to hand over her precious son to any other woman, and in Cumberland Lodge Aunt Lenchen was most put out that Eddy had chosen the lower-born May before her own eligible daughter, Thora.
In the event, the complaint was immaterial. During the bitterly cold January of 1892, the Waleses gathered at Sandringham for Eddy’s birthday. It was hardly going to be the most thrilling event: his brother, George, was recovering from typhoid, frail Toria was in bed with influenza and most of the rest of the family had colds. On the day before his birthday, while out shooting with his father, the prince became ill and returned to the house to join the other invalids. The following morning he managed to make a brief appearance to open his presents but was too weak to participate in the planned festivities. That evening influenza was diagnosed and for the next few days, while his anxious mother and sisters sat mopping his brow, he drifted in and out of consciousness, repeatedly whispering ‘Hélène,’ until, in the early morning 14th January 1892, he died surrounded by his family. Even the sheltered world of the Waleses was not immune to tragedy.
Meanwhile, in the Friedrichshof, Mossy, recovering from her infatuation with Max of Baden, met and fell in love with the scholarly Frederick (Fischy) a brother of the Landgrave of neighbouring Hesse-Kassel. He may not have been the most illustrious of princes, but Vicky, more concerned with Mossy’s happiness than her position, was delighted.
Queen Victoria’s response was typically guarded. Although she had recently been pressing for a match with Prince Albert Victor, she now decided that it would be better for Mossy to remain single to devote her life to the service of her widowed mother. Happily, Vicky had no intention of putting the same pressure on Mossy as the Queen had once put on Beatrice, and, putting aside her own feelings, willingly gave them her blessing.
The usual gathering of royalties arrived for the wedding in Potsdam on 25th January 1893. From England, Queen Victoria sent a ring and other gifts for the bride. Willy, despite his complaint that a mere Landgrave was unworthy of the Kaiser’s sister, behaved himself well, and only the brother of the straight-laced Empress Dona marred the occasion by entertaining the visiting Tsarevic
h with dancing girls and plying him with so much drink that he could barely stand.
Mossy and Fischy moved into the peaceful Schloss Rumpenheim – an ancient castle given to them in trust by Fischy’s elder brother – and began what was to be probably the happiest marriage of any of Vicky’s daughters. The Queen’s fears that Vicky would be lonely once Mossy had left home proved largely unfounded. Mossy and Fischy regularly stayed at Friedrichshof where their cordiality impressed all who came to visit. Vicky’s admiration for her studious son-in-law increased by the day; he shared her love of art and architecture, and repeatedly in her letters to Mossy, she wished that Fischy could have been with her to share a particular experience, a scenic view or an impressive building. She trusted his judgement so implicitly that she came to rely on his advice in political and family matters.
Within days of the wedding Mossy conceived her first child, causing her grandmother to worry that the draughty old Schloss was unsuitable for a woman in such a condition, but in October 1893, Mossy’s gave birth to a healthy son, Friedrich. The following year a second son, Max, was born, to be followed in 1896 by twin boys, Philip and Wolfgang – an event which delighted the Queen who ‘laughed very much and is rather amused at the list of her great grandchildren being added to in such a rapid manner.’[92]
A second set of twins Christoph and Richard were born in 1901. Like their parents, they were gentle studious boys who had no appetite for militarism. Alice Topham, the English governess to Willy’s daughter, recalled a visit they made to Berlin in 1903. Standing beneath a painting of a great Prussian victory, eight-year-old Max said:
“My father says war isn’t like that at all. He says it’s not so clean and bright and that shells tear the men and horses to pieces and it’s horrible.”[93]
In little over a decade, Max and his brothers would realise the tragic accuracy of their father’s words.
Chapter 15 – It Really Is Not Wise To Leave These Girls Dans la Vague
Waleses
Bertie & Alexandra: Prince & Princess of Wales
Children of Bertie & Alexandra:
Louise, Duchess of Fife
Toria (Victoria)
Maud
George, Duke of York
May of Teck: Duchess of York
Carl: Prince of Denmark; nephew of the Princess of Wales
Christians
Lenchen (Helena): Queen Victoria’s third daughter
Christian: Lenchen’s husband
Thora: Elder daughter of Lenchen & Christian
Content that her daughters were finally settled, Vicky could only gaze askance at her Wales nieces confined in their childhood home with no apparent desire to escape.
Leaving the sheltered world of the nursery was no easy matter for the daughters of the Princess of Wales. Awkward in company and shy among strangers, none of them hoped for a great match in the court of a foreign king, and yet, as they watched their cousins precede them to the altar, even the ‘whispering Waleses’ harboured hopes of the limited independence that marriage might bring.
Unlike Moretta, they had neither an obstinate Kaiser nor an arrogant court to contend with; for the Waleses the chief obstacle was their mother’s reluctance to break up her happy family. With a possessiveness surpassing even that of Queen Victoria, Princess Alexandra clung to her children, carelessly dismissing their pleas to find them suitable partis before it was too late.
Louise was the first to strain at the apron strings though her manner of escape raised a few eyebrows at court. As the eldest daughter of the heir to the British Empire, the twenty-two-year-old princess might have married one of several foreign princes but home-loving Louise opted instead for a forty-year-old friend of her father’s, Alexander Macduff, Earl of Fife.
Although immensely rich, the uncouth and ill-mannered Macduff was certainly no great catch in the eyes of the aristocracy but to shrinking Louise he offered the possibility of vanishing into the luxurious obscurity of his several Scottish estates. In spite of the age difference, Louise was delighted by his proposal and one member of her household observed that ‘there was never anyone more in love.’
Since Macduff shared his passion for racing and shooting, the Prince of Wales approved of the match, and even Louise’s mother was content, knowing that her daughter would not have to leave the country. Queen Victoria, with her fondness for Scotsmen, was equally content and as part of her wedding present elevated Macduff from Earl to Duke of Fife.
After an engagement lasting less than a month, the wedding took place in July 1889 in the flower-bedecked chapel of Buckingham Palace, where Cousins Thora and Marie Louise of Schleswig-Holstein acted as bridesmaids. The wedding dress enhanced Louise’s features, and observers commented on how graceful and charming she appeared. The Queen was less impressed, observing that, as Louise whispered her vows and fumbled with the wedding ring, she looked very pale and unbecoming.
Marriage revitalised Louise. Spending much of her time at Macduff’s London home, Sheen Lodge, or travelling around his Scottish estates far away from her mother’s pampering, her health improved dramatically. Though a stillborn baby blighted the early years of her marriage, Louise found happiness with her fatherly husband and in May 1891 she gave birth to a healthy daughter whom she dutifully named Alexandra after the Princess of Wales. The baby was christened at Windsor with her Aunt Toria among the godmothers. Eighteen months later, Louise was excusing herself from a visit to Windsor for Christmas, because, she was once more enceinte.
A second daughter, Maud, ‘a pretty little thing but very small’, was born the following April.
The Princess of Wales might complain that she saw too little of her grandchildren but Louise was happy. She took up fishing and cycling and according to one observer, even her appearance improved.
The same could not be said for her younger sisters.
Gloomily recovering from their brother’s death and traipsing around after their mother on her many foreign jaunts, Toria and Maud were finding the state of singleness increasingly onerous. As Cousin Moretta had already discovered, it was humiliating to attend so many family weddings while their mother firmly refused to make any effort to encourage appropriate suitors.
“It is really not wise to leave these dear girls dans la vague,” Vicky warned Queen Victoria, who drew the matter to the attention of their father. The Prince of Wales’ response was discouraging. He understood Vicky’s concern, he said, but his wife was reluctant to part with the girls, both of whom he believed were quite happy to remain single.
The Prince of Wales was mistaken. Toria felt her spinsterhood as keenly as any of her cousins. Though her health had not improved with age – she had even felt faint at Cousin Sophie’s wedding and had to miss some of the celebrations – she had every reason remain optimistic. Many royalties would have been delighted at the chance of becoming a son-in-law of the future King, and various gentlemen of the court and foreign princes had been mentioned as prospective candidates but the Princess of Wales stubbornly dismissed each suggestion.
Stifled and frustrated, Toria’s health deteriorated under the strain, so much so that, during a visit to England in 1894, the Tsarevich Nicholas recorded that she had become much thinner and did not look well.
Her younger sister, Maud, on the other hand, gained weight and fell into a ‘malheureuse passion’ for the handsome but wayward brother of the Duchess of York, Prince Francis of Teck. ‘Frank’ did not reciprocate her feelings and when it was discovered that he that was conducting an affair with an older, married woman, any hope of a possible match came to a sudden end.
While Toria fretted and fainted, Maud refused to lose heart and persistently pleaded with her mother to find her an eligible prince. She briefly entertained the idea of marrying the much-sought-after Max of Baden but he showed little interest in her, and her efforts to meet him were repeatedly dashed. At last, shortly before her twenty-sixth birthday, a suitable candidate appeared in the person of her first cousin, Prince Carl of Denmar
k, the second son of Princess Alexandra’s brother, the future King Frederick VIII. Though he was two years Maud’s junior, and looked much younger, he was charming and handsome and, being Danish, even the protective Princess of Wales had no objections to the match.
The engagement was announced on 28th October 1895 after which Carl departed for a five month tour of the West Indies, leaving Maud time to fret about the trauma of leaving the fairy tale world of her childhood. His return in the spring restored her spirits and the wedding took place in the private chapel of Buckingham Palace on Wednesday 22nd July 1896, where the bridesmaids included Maud’s sister, Toria, Cousin Thora of Schleswig-Holstein, the two Connaught princesses, Daisy and Patsy, and Alice of Albany.
As a wedding present, the Prince of Wales gave his daughter Appleton Lodge on the Sandringham estate so that she might return home whenever she wished. Even so, it was almost six months before Maud could bear to tear herself away from her family. Shortly before Christmas 1896, she said her tearful goodbyes and set sail for Copenhagen, which was to be her home for the next nine years.
It was a happy marriage, marred only in its early years by Maud’s failure to conceive. Seven years passed before she gave birth to her only son, Alexander.
Maud’s departure for Denmark left Toria lonelier and more desperate to make a life of her own. At the same time it strengthened her mother’s resolve to cling to her one remaining daughter. Increasingly deaf, the Princess of Wales had become so reliant on Toria’s company that she barely allowed her out of her sight and was rarely seen anywhere without the dowdier princess trailing like a puppy at her heels.
Humiliated by the stigma of spinsterhood and compelled to endure the tedium of her mother’s endless Danish excursions, the sight of her numerous married cousins only increased her pain. As if her loneliness were not enough, every year the Princess of Wales thoughtlessly invited many of Toria’s married friends to her birthday parties; but for the unhappy princess, the most wounding blow of all was her mother’s refusal to consider a proposal of marriage from the widowed Prime Minister, Lord Rosebery, with whom she had fallen in love. Notwithstanding the fact that Louise had already married a commoner, the Princess of Wales argued that Rosebery was unworthy of a daughter of the future King. It was Toria’s last chance of escape from her mother’s domination and, that having failed, she gave way to her numerous psychosomatic ailments and became increasingly resentful and unpopular with the younger members of the family.
Queen Victoria's Granddaughters 1860-1918 Page 14